


Things we lose (Have a way of coming back)

by ConfessedGeek



Series: In The End [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, Repressed Memories, Rewrite, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessedGeek/pseuds/ConfessedGeek
Summary: “My mum always said things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. If not always in the ways we expect".-Luna lovegoodA question pierces the silence: “Did you go to Hogwarts?”At the last second, she bites back an answer she knows he won’t understand- that she doesn’t: ‘I think so.’The long awaited rewrite of In The End
Relationships: Harry Potter & Newt Scamander, future Harry Potter/Newt Scamander
Series: In The End [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1214139
Comments: 19
Kudos: 341





	Things we lose (Have a way of coming back)

Flashes.

That’s all her thoughts are. Barely there images and sounds that slip away before she can make sense of them.

**_Running, running ..._ **

****

Her existence doesn’t make sense at the moment.

**_Screams, yells, flashes of light..._ **

**_“HAZEL!”_ **

Is that her name? She’s not sure...there’s so many in the flashes...

**_FredHermioneRonTonksColinDeanRemusLavenderColinSirusLilyJames....._ **

No. None of those are _her_ name. They belong to other people.... people dear to her...

**_Still bodies, lying in the centre of a hall...._ **

**_“I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me...”_ **

**_This was her_ home.**

**_Cold air. Red eyes..._ **

**_Green light..._ **

****

Emerald orbs snap open; cold feet skidding across shiny black tiles -

Something angry writhes beneath her skin when she’s thrown back, heating the frigid air. People shrouded in dark cloaks stand on the other side of a thin, shinning barrier – all staring at her with varying expressions from curiosity to unbridled glee.

She _SCREAMS._

I~I~I~I~I

Time runs together.

Her holders – whoever they are – force gallons of a tasteless concoction down her throat, asking the same questions over and over and over...

“What’s your name?”

**Wide blue eyes, countless freckles: “You’re…!”**

**_“H_ ** _a **z** e **l**. **J** u **s** t **H** a **z** e **l…”**_

“Do you remember anything more today?”

**_A red C, concerned honey coloured eyes, “You’re smarter than this…”_ **

**_Bruises hidden under a too big shirt, b_** u ** _r_** n ** _i_** n ** _g_** r ** _e_** s ** _e_** n ** _t_** m ** _e_** n ** _t…_**

Glass shatters; slicing pale, slim hands while clear liquid splatters across the ground. Her tongue’s too heavy, voice too raw. “Why don’t you _fucking_ tell me?”

They write it down. They write _everything_ down. All while exchanging meaningful glances, like trainers handling a stubborn dog.

**_A dark cupboard, a tiny worn mattress that sagged under her little weight..._ **

**_“FREAK!”_ **

No. She knows she’s human. The flashes tell her that much. Human, with abilities that turn dark robes bright unattractive shades or blister rough gloved hands with barely a thought.

**_“You’re a witch, Hazel.”_ **

But that’s not why they ask endless, pointless questions. Or why they keep her trapped behind a web of spells. In small groups outside her cage, they mutter about ‘time’ and ‘dimensions’ like she can’t piece it together.

She’s not supposed to exist. It makes her _fascinating._

Her lips quirk, body vibrating against the cold ground whilst they watch with ever growing frowns.

Isn’t that just _hilarious?_

I~I~I~I~I

One day they drag her into a towering room of black stone where there’s only a weightless veil, and whispers.

They fill her ears. Scrambling her already fucked head so it _hurts._

**_A man with dark curls laughing, “Is that the best you’ve got?”_ **

**_A light, a breath – and he’s tipping backwards. Disappearing forever behind clear, fluttering curtains..._ **

“ ** _M_** a ** _s_** t ** _e_** r ** _._**. ** _._** ”

_She wishes they would stop._

“What are they saying to you?!” The man’s bleary dark eyes glint with familiar madness, his nails digging into her aching scalp like he wants to peel it off. 

**_“The wand, the stone, the cloak...”_ **

**_Dark hair, darker haunted, proud eyes... “My goddaughter.”_ **

**_“_** _Y **o** u_ **’** r ** _e_** _s **o** b **r** a **v** e...”_

_She wishes she could join them..._

“WELL?”

She coughs, lips quirking at the vivid flecks of red now splattered across his pale cheeks. “They think you need a little more colour. Y’know black robes on pale skin in this _lighting_ -”

Nails dig in, slamming her face against black tiles.

“Rosier!”

Heels click on the floor, vibrating in her ringing ears.

Click.

Click.

Click...

They stop. She prepares to hear another scolding about ‘handling the subject with care...’

She doesn’t hear it.

She doesn’t hear _anything._

Her cheek stings as it’s separated from the sticky ground, her emerald eyes flickering over every quiet dark cloaked figure. Their breath mists, frames trembling ever so slightly; blueblackbrown wide eyes all focused on the same thing.

The veil’s still in deafening silence.

I~I~I~I~I

They are ever so curious. Like children, they poke and prod every inch of her, watching her different reactions with gleeful excitement. There comes a day, however, when all children must learn that there are some things you definitely should leave alone no matter how much it intrigues you.

In this case, it’s the lightning shaped scar on her forehead that they themselves decreed was the result of _very_ dark magic.

**_Green light. High cold laughter. Screams..._ **

Cloaked bodies are scattered around the destroyed room like discarded toys. They are perfectly still, _silent_ while her own choked inhales echo across endless black tiles.

For a wondrous, terrible moment vindictive triumph blazes in her chest.

A single ragged breath brutally snuffs it out.

Every freckle, line and scar on each face is committed to her broken mind while searching for a usable wand. Most are little more than dead wood, bursting into flame the second she tries casting a spell. Only one doesn’t so much as smoke. It’s too heavy in her palm; smooth where there should be nicks in darker worn wood.

**_“The wand chooses the wizard...”_ **

****

Feeble red sparks fall through the air as emerald orbs close with a wish to be _anywhere but here._

I~I~I~I~I

No one looks at her twice in the strangely familiar grey city. Just another juvenile left on the streets for causing trouble.

**_“I don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me.”_ **

Something solid strikes her shoulder. Catching herself, wide-green eyes land on a well-dressed man in a similar position. Before she can move, he looks up – the permanent sneer of his thin lips becoming steadily more prominent as dark eyes flicker over her form. “Watch where you’re going, girl.” Her teeth grit, hands curling into fists against a sudden urge to wrap them around his neck...

**_Long pale hair, cold grey eyes. “Why don’t you prove it?”_ **

****

“Right Sir,” She smiles prettily, baring white teeth. “I wouldn’t want to bump into anything more unpleasant.” Dusting off his spotless brown suit, the man straightens to give her a perfect view up his nose before continuing on his way. Or trying to.

Grasping his arm briefly to steady him, she offers another sunny smile. “Careful, you don’t want to hit your head.” Letting go, she deliberately takes a wide step around him, ignoring his angered mutterings in favour of weighing a small leather pouch in her palm.

_‘Watch your pockets, Sir.’_

I~I~I~I~I

**September 2nd, 1925** a discarded newspaper she grabs from the trash reads. A sense of wrongness hits her that she brushes off; tucking the newspaper under her arm to read more later.

I~I~I~I~I

The wand hums in her palm as she casts spells around a park bench. Latin words falling from her lips without much thought, going through motions like a puppet would. When she finishes, her hands are shaking – green eyes watching a laughing couple move a couple of feet to the right whilst passing the bench. The woman’s brown eyes slide right past her.

There’s something funny about this. Something funny in a ridiculously sad kind of way. Like a previous alcoholic being killed by a drunk driver.

Lying on her hidden park bench with a stolen wand clutched tightly in hand, feels like something she desperately tried to get away from, yet only managed to end up right back here.

Ridiculously hilarious.

I~I~I~I~I

**_Rotting hands tilting her head back..._ **

**_A cold, ancient voice promising death.._ **

**_Dozens of spiders – their pincers n_ ** _i **p** p **i** n **g** a **t** h **e** r **c** l **o** t **h** e **s...**_

****

She jolts, wand humming in her palm as she takes aim -

A small fluffy creature blinks up at her with wide dark eyes, outstretched paws twitching a hairsbreadth away from the leather pouch held loosely in her left palm.

Emerald orbs narrow while the creature’s flicker uneasily:

Wand, face. Wand, face...Wand, street...

“Don’t even think about it.”

Black eyes instantly snap back up to hers, little round body shuddering...

Her fingers loosen around cooling wood, something squeezing in her chest.

**_A beautiful snowy owl, hooting pitifully inside a padlocked cage..._ **

****

“Hey,” The creature stills at her softer tone, paws curling uncertainly. Sighing, she lowers the wand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her lips quirk at how the creature’s head tilts, duck-like nose twitching adorably -

Paws snatch the pouch from her loose grasp, claws clicking on worn cobblestones as the creature dodges every ‘accio’ and sticking spell she throws while scrambling to her feet, “Little fucker!”

Skidding on wet stone, she chases it around a corner – then another – and another. Damp wind bites into her wet skin, breath rattling annoyingly in her lungs. “For fuck’s sake,” she growls, aiming just a few feet ahead of the creature.“Levicorpus!” The creature yips, paws trying to grasp the various shiny things spilling from its pouch. For a moment, she watches the pile grow, lips twitching despite herself. “Well,” she raises an eyebrow at the sniffling creature, snatching a golden broach mid-fall to marvel at its shine in the dim streetlight. “You’ve been busy.”

Dropping the broach, she catches the leather pouch with the same hand while the creature watches with narrowed eyes. Tossing it up lightly, she steps closer, bending to meet the little bugger’s gaze when she catches it. They stare each other down, sniffling little thief and runaway amnesiac.

‘ _What a pair.’_ Lips twisting with bitter amusement, she tilts her head towards the small fortune. “I hope you have a good place to stash all this.” The creature blinks, then squeals as it falls. It stops, paws disbelieving brushing over an unhurt furry body then the soft cushion placed beneath it. Tucking the wand into her waistband, she meets its wide gaze calmly. “Don’t try stealing from me again.”

Turning away, she makes it halfway down the alley before hearing coins clinking. Absently, she wonders if the little critter will notice an extra.

I~I~I~I~I

**_A man with croaked glasses presses his tanned hand against the glass separating them - fingers curling as if he could touch the tips of hers if he tried hard enough._ **

**_A beautiful young woman grips his other hand so tight her pale knuckles are white. Her hair is a brilliant shade of red, and her eyes..._ **

_‘ **H** e **r** e **y** e **s** a **r** e **j** u **s** t **l** i **k** e **m** i **n** e...’_

Emerald orbs fly open, then squeeze shut – desperately trying to imprint the image of the man and woman there. But the woman’s hair is too dull a shade, the man’s eyes too brown...

Or are they?

 _‘No...’_ She pushes harder, pain spreading through her already aching arms as her fists strike cobblestones. Their smiles look wrong, too weak – too faded.

“No! Damn it!” Her fists strike the ground harder, then her thighs – trying to jolt something _anything_ back into place.

Nothing.

A wretched, inhuman sound rips through the still air, silenced only by a bloodied fist stuffed into her mouth. The familiar, awful taste of salted iron still isn’t enough to stop her body from trembling in the warm air. Isn’t enough to stop her heart from tearing itself apart again.

 _‘Stupfy. Wingardiumleviosa. Episky. Experillarmus...’_ She bites down harder, reciting the spells viciously even though they’re fucking _useless_ because not one of them can help her remember if that sad, beautiful woman was her mother.

_‘Accio. Oblivate. Reducto. Revelio...’_

She jolts, wand hot in her palm glowing with magic...

“Oh...” She breathes deep, lowering her arm. “It’s you.”

The little black creature just centimetre's from her feet watches her, twitching nervously. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Loosening her hold on the borrowed wand, she scrubs at her face, offering a sad playful smile. “Unless, you’ve decided to steal from me again?”

The creature tilts its little head, black eyes narrowing. She swallows, fingers tapping against the borrowed wand, quite certain that she shouldn’t feel so _judged_ by a furry thief. A long moment later, the creature breaks eye contact, little paws patting at its pouch. Frowning, she watches the little critter rummage through determinedly for several moments before it’s black eyes widen with something like triumph. With all the flourish of a little kid presenting something ‘wicked’ to a babysitter, the fluffy thief holds up a small grey rock. “Er...” An off kilter smile curls her lips, “Neat.”

The thief’s mouth twitches in what might have been considered a pout, holding the rock even higher while shaking its tiny fist. “Oh -” She reaches out, taking it between two fingers to take a closer look. It looks the same, just a small grey rock – barely a pebble really. She tries offering a smile to the creature, lifting the pebble closer to the light, “It’s _very_ nice...” The words halt on her tongue; eyes widening. The pebble _shines_ , colours aplenty revealed by the dim streetlight. Greens, blues, pinks – all vibrantly lovely. She moves the pebble back into shadow, prodding its grey appearing surface then moving it back to the light, feeling something soften within her chest. “It’s beautiful.” The creature looks undeniably smug, little black eyes glittering. “Thank you for showing me.” She lowers her hand, the pebble resting on her open palm. Little Thief looks at the pebble, shuffling a bit closer, paws reaching out -

To shove her hand back towards her, pebble and all.

It looks back up at her, expectant. Keeping eye contact, she closes her fingers around the stone, tucking it into her pocket. The creature nods, taking a few steps back from her. It stops, black eyes fixating on hers in a way that’s eerily _human._ Then, it crawls onto her lap to just flop down on her stomach– comfortable as you please.

Letting out a long sigh, she watches its tiny body rise and fall for a second before brushing a hand through its fur. “I dunno if you’ve got a name – but I’m gonna call you Nick. ‘Cause, y’know ,you nick stuff. Hope that’s alright.” Nick’s body shifts closer, wet nose nuzzling her side. Her lips twitch, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Leaning back against the wall, she focuses at the bit of sky between the buildings, counting the stars there. Nick’s fur is soft between her fingers.

There’s no more dreams.

I~I~I~I~I

“Would you like to see something?”

His face is young, handsome and etched with lines of worried uncertainty. Kind eyes, blue like a sky she remembers as a distant dream flickering between her and Nick in her arms. She swallows, nearly stumbling in her haste to stop drifting closer to this stranger. Dark rooms, cold eyes and her bloodied fists making her hug Nick bit tighter. Those sea-sky eyes catch the movement, his face softening around the edges. “It’s alright,” he lifts his hands from his coats pockets, palms towards her. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

**_“House of the noble and brave...”_ **

****

Nick tugs at her sleeve, head tilting towards the man. She grits her teeth, shifting the bugger in her arms while closing the distance. “I’m not afraid.”

His hand is warm.

I~I~I~I~I

All the creatures are so magnificent, brightening up the large basement. She knows, _knows_ someone would love them -

**_Warm dark eyes and a face hidden by a mass of shaggy hair...._ **

“Is there anywhere you have to go?” The wizard asks as she holds a hand out for Dougel to examine -

**_Blank eyes of different colours of so many different shades..._ **

**_Bluebrownhazel...._ **

**_Red hair that she had run her fingers through..._ **

**_A smile he had so often given her frozen..._ **

**_Her heart is crushing in on itself and she can’t breathe..._ **

****

Her throat’s dry: “No. I don’t have anyone.”

Focusing on Dougal, who’s long grey fingers gently trail over her palm, she tries ignoring the crunch of footsteps drawing nearer.

They halt next to her, “You know...” He speaks quietly. “I could use an assistant.”

Emerald eyes snap up to meet green-blue, stunned by all the emotions laid out on the surface of their depths. By the compassion. She does not quite remember what a smile feels like, but she thinks one curls her lips just a bit at the corner. “I’d like that.”

I~I~I~I~I

His name is Newton Scamander (“Call me Newt.”) and it rings something in her jumbled head –

**_Laughter..._ **

**_Ink splotches on a page..._ **

**_The scratching of a quill as she writes above neatly printed words she can’t make out..._ **

He jumps when the pot of cooling tea on his stove bubbles furiously, the abrupt movement saving him from a ceramic shard just skimming past his arm. Wide sea-sky orbs scan over the various broken objects before landing on her, right hand reaching for his wand...

She curses herself when she flinches, nails digging into her palms.

Tan fingers loosen around the wand at his hip, strange coloured eyes darkening to a green, “Reparo.” The objects fix themselves as he steps closer, strides carefully slow despite his long legs. He crouches a foot from her, glancing up through curly locks with a curious light in those eyes. Slowly, a tanned hand reaches out, wrapping around her left fist.

It’s warm, solid – rough with callouses and small scars in testimony of years of work in the field. She likes it, likes it even more so when it’s so at odds with the mellow, almost nervous timbre of his voice: “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever asked for your name.”

In comparison, she sounds like a dying toad when she answers him.

“Hazel.” He repeats her name like it is something to be cherished, a breathtaking smile spreading across his lips. “That’s lovely.”

 _‘You’re lovely.’_ The words dance on her tongue when he does not push for a last name, but she bites them back stubbornly as he rubs his thumb over her knuckles gently.

I~I~I~I~I

He shows her a room.

Dark wood flooring contrasts nicely with dark blue walls. A handsome pine dresser is backed along the far wall beneath a window, while a small matching bed with an actual _mattress and_ quilt sits in the corner to her left. She steps towards it, running her fingers over the quilt’s stitches. “I know it’s rather small, but that can be easily fixed with an expansion charm if you want.” She turns ‘round to meet Newt’s nervously steady gaze, noticing how his fingers tap against his thighs. “You can change the paint too – and the floors, everything if you want.” His voice rises, right corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “It’s your room now.”

_Hers._

The quilt’s soft between her clenched fingers, so different from the familiar callouses of her palm. Good different.

“Thanks Newt,” she smiles up at him before turning back to the blurring room. “But I think I’m good.”

For once, it doesn’t sound like a lie.

I~I~I~I~I

Newt is talking of the things he will teach her when her fingers brush against something soft in the pile of clothes he had offered for her to borrow. She tugs it out, breath catching in her throat at an achingly familiar black badger sown into the yellow cotton.

**_Gray eyes...Kindness...warmth_ **

**_“Take my body back, will you?”_ **

Newt’s chatter pauses, sea-sky eyes roving over the pile of discarded clothes before fixating on the sweater covering her to her thighs. “I forgot I still had that.” he says with a wistful smile as she stares down at the badger. “It was from school – Hogwarts. We had different houses and I was - ”

“Hufflepuff.” She’s not sure where the word comes from, only that it’s right.

His gaze burns into her. “Yes. House of the hardworking and loyal...”

He trails off as her hands fist into the large amount of fabric pooling over her arms, a burning in her eyes that she _can’t_ make go away...

**_Anger_ **

**_Hurt_ **

**_Sorrow_ **

**_Guilt_ **

A question pierces the silence: “Did you go to Hogwarts?”

**_Burning...her home was burning._ **

_Confusion._

At the last second, she bites back an answer she knows he won’t understand- that _she_ doesn’t: _‘I_ think _so.’_

After getting her own clothes, she goes to return the sweater – only for it to be pushed back into her hands. “Keep it.” Newt says softly, a small smile curling up his mouth as he looked at her. “It suits you.”

I~I~I~I~I

Newt grabs another book from the shelf, adding it to the perilously teetering pile in her arms. “You’re going to need to know the basics of healing of course, on the off chance something should happen and I’m incapacitated.”

“Basics,” Hazel huffs, eyeing the heavy novel while adjusting her grip carefully. “Right...”

Undeterred, Newt steps up a rung to look at the next shelf, eyes roving over the titles. “Since you haven’t given me a sound idea of your education level, I think it’s best we cover everything – Oh!” Newt snatches a large red-covered tome from the shelf, a bright grin spreading across his lips. “Runes!” Tapping the book with his forefinger, his nose crinkles at her frown. “I know they sound dull – but in practise they’re quite fascinating -”

**_Thick, tightly curled hair – sharp brown orbs..._ **

****

“Because they’re the earliest known form of spell magic yet we still know so little about them.” She feels her lips pull up in a smile, shuffling closer to study the title. “Are there protection ones in there?”

“Y -yes.” Newt turns the book towards him with a flick of his wrist, proceeding to quickly flip through the pages. A handful of seconds later, the open book is pushed back in front of her on a page titled _“Runes for Personal Protection Against Hexes”_

“It’s more beginner stuff,” Newt explains. “But there is some introduction to more advanced Rune use. Even a small section on how blood magic can be used to enhance their power -”

Her eyes snap up to meet Newt’s, “Blood magic?”

“Yes.” Newt flips through the book once more, stopping on a page titled ‘ _Blood Magic and Runes.’_ where the writing stops three-quarters down. “It’s not often done, as both Runes and Blood Magicks are already quite temperamental to use on their own and are seen today by many as old-fashioned. If done properly though, the combination of these two magics have the potential to do -”

“Great and terrible things.” Her forehead itches.

Newt’s eyebrows furrow, orbs darkening slightly: “Exactly.”

“Have -” She traces over the title with her eyes, paying special attention to the small triangular symbol in place of the I. “Have you ever...?”

“Oh Merlin no.” Newt laughs nervously, shaking his head. “I have never been quite desperate enough.

**_“You’re so loved Hazel...”_ **

****

She frowns, focusing on Newt’s words. “Quite?”

His smile dims, eyes darkening like when one dives too deep into the ocean. “Quite.”

I~I~I~I~I

“Please, Hazel.”

Her body stiffens, eyes widening in disbelief as they meet Newt’s imploring ones, because _‘did he really just...?’_

“What?”

“You need to eat.” Newt responds patiently, shuffling his chair closer so that he can grab her abandoned fork. Stabbing a small piece of red pepper, he holds it in front of him, peeking through his golden bangs imploringly: _“Please.”_

It takes her a moment to realize he is _concerned_ for _her._ When it does sink in, her mouth parts, allowing him to place the pepper in her mouth.

Briefly, she wonders what had happened to her. She, who had withstood her captives worst experiments and questions with biting sarcasm, is now reduced to allowing a bright-eyed young man spoon-feed her because he said _please._

The answer is in the blinding smile he gives her when there is no food left on the plate.

I~I~I~I~I

**_Long red-hair -_ **

**_Familiar red rimmed eyes._ **

**_“You are so loved Hazel...”_ **

**_Screams...a_ ** _g **o** n **y** s **e** a **r** i **n** g **h** e **r f** o **r** e **h** e **a** d..._

****

_Something warm, brushing aside her hair then gently skimming against the source of her pain... taking it all away..._

_Her magic coos in delight, curling possessively around the tendrils of bright, golden warmth smelling of sun-dried earth and rain. There’s another touch, firmer this time though just as gentle- leaving behind a pleasant tingling sensation through her whole being..._

_Sinking into it, she hears a soft promise:_

_“It’s all right. You’re safe Hazel...”_

I~I~I~I~I

“You put up silencing charms around your bed.” Newt’s eyebrows furrow, lovely eyes blinking in sincere troubled confusion.

Confusing _her._ “Er, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I -” Frowning, she recalls with perfect clarity waking to an exhausted Newt Scamander curled up in a chair beside her bed a few days before. “I didn’t want to wake you again.”

A frown tugs at his lips, “Again?” Sea-sky orbs sharpen, fixating on her so that she feels very exposed. “How often do you have nightmares, Hazel?”

**_Tearing...biting...ripping a man to bloody shreds..._ **

**_“I w_ ** _a **s t** h **e snake!”**_

**_Darkness, pain...a monster with red eyes using her mouth..._ **

**_“Kill me now...if death is nothing, kill the girl...”_ **

_G **r** e **e** n **l** i **g** h **t,** a **l** w **a** y **s** g **r** e **e** n.._

****

Swallowing bile, she tries lying. “Sometimes.” It’s pathetic.

“Twice a week? Three times?” He crosses his arms, muscles pulling taut.

Her chest tightens, back straightening in defence. “Why does it matter _?”_

“Because we are going to be handling a variety of magical creatures that won’t react well to carelessness caused by sleep deprivation.” There’s steel in his usually soft murmur, tan jaw taut with tension while sea-sky eyes hold hers resolutely.

Something in her stomach flops.

Glancing at the already scuffed leather of her new boots, she bites the inside of her cheek, feeling his eyes on her the whole while. Her gaze is steady when it meets his again: “Almost every night”

“How long?” The steel’s disappeared from his voice, dark orbs softening to a lighter green as he leans towards her.

 _‘How do you do that?’_ she wonders, caught again by the sincerity of his emotions. “Since I can remember.”

Her teeth click together loudly at the slip, though Newt doesn’t seem to notice – spinning around to go through the various bottles on the shelves above his cluttered desk. “You’ve been using silencing charms every night then?”

“Um-” Emerald orbs track the frantic movements of his hands, ears filling with the tinkering of glass. “Yes.”

He grumbles, “Figures,” pulling another bottle from the shelf. In the light, the potion within is a nasty shade of vomit yellow, though Newt grins like it’s the elixir of life before abruptly shoving it into her right hand. “Take this.”

“What?” Emerald eyes blink, flickering from the small bottle in her palm to Newt’s curly head.

“It’s a sedative, it should help with the dreams.” He explains curtly, peeking up through his fringe then glancing away as he turns back to his desk. “If it doesn’t work, I want to know so I can whip you up something stronger. So please refrain from using silencing charms.”

Prodding the stopper with her thumb, she watches him reach for another bottle. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll wake you up.”

He lifts the red bottle to his face, eyes squinting to read the worn label. “Likely.”

“I can just tell you -” She tries, stepping forward when his nose crinkles as he sets it aside.

Tan fingers, which had been reaching for another bottle, hover mid-air. “You can.” His hand drops, fingers curling around the edge of the lowest cabinet as he gives her a rueful smile. “But you won’t.”

Mouth opening to argue, she finds herself cut off “You have this peculiar aversion for accepting help, Hazel. Even when it’s abundantly clear you need it.”

**_“We’re coming with you Hazel -”_ **

**_A hall of glass orbs -falling bodies. One, two, three -_ **

**_“Is there anything you wish to tell me?”_ **

Fingers tighten around the bottle; slackening when the glass strains: “What about making ‘careless mistakes’?”

“I’ve got years of experience in making them according to my brother.” Pink lips curl wryly, sea-sky eyes bright. “More than you, I bet. So I can handle the guaranteed fallout more gracefully.”

“You’d lose your money.” She argues with certainty, lips quirking up when his head tilts in consideration. “Side’s, I’ve never heard of a graceful mauling.”

Snorting, he ducks his head, tan fingers drumming against the cabinet, “No.” Bright orbs meet hers, revealing a toothy crooked smile, “Which is all the more reason for us both to be well rested.”

“We won’t be, with your plan.”

Raising his right eyebrow, Newt lets go of the cabinet to turn completely towards her, straightening to his full height. “A few hours are better than none, and I _will_ stay up the _whole night_ if you decide to not be honest with me about this.”

“That’s -” Gaping, her grip tightens around the bottle, disbelieving laughter spilling out her mouth. “Mad. Absolutely bonkers.”

“No, your disregard for your health – even when it can affect the well-being of others - is bonkers.” Newt states calmly, all amusement drained from his face.

Her laughter dies.

**_A girl, slashed with purple. “Oh...”_ **

**_“Selfish, arrogant -”_ **

****

Sea-sky eyes flicker to her clenched fist at the sound of cracking glass. “Fine.” Hazel grits out, stuffing the bottle in her cardigan’s pocket so some stitching breaks. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when we’re _both_ half-mad from sleep deprivation.” Pinning Newt with a final glare he barely _blinks_ at, she stalks out

I~I~I~I~I

The potion doesn’t work.

Neither does the second.

By the third, the skin under Newt’s eyes is just a shade of purple lighter than hers. Twice, she stops him from putting his coat on backwards. Ten times he marches towards her in disgruntled frustration after she cast a minor sleeping charm upon catching him nodding off in Dougal’s nest.

Despite glaring, furious temptation, the words “Told you so” always mange to transform into weary puffs of air before leaving her tongue.

Her head’s just not fucked enough to not know that anybody working on highly combustible potions at ungodly hours of morning despite hardly being able to see straight is a mad idiot who will only take it as a challenge.

I~I~I~I~I~I

**_A gleaming tiara hissing malevolent promises..._ **

**_Curses thrown in a room of towering objects..._ **

**_An inferno of monsters, consuming even her screams – their ember eyes glowing bright._ **

**_._**. ** _._** “ ** _H_** a ** _z_** e ** _l_** w ** _h_** a ** _t_** s **_h_** a ** _p_** p ** _e_** n ** _i_** n ** _g_**? **_H_** a ** _z_** e ** _l_** _?”_

 ** _S_** _t **i** l **l** , **t** h **e** y **h** u **n** g **e** r **.** A **s** h **c** o **a** t **e** d **m** a **w** s **o** p **e** n **i** n **g** t **o** s **p** e **w** f **i** r **e**._ F _l_ o _o_ r _b_ o _a_ r _d_ s _a_ r _e_ t _o_ r _n_ a _p_ a _r_ t _–_ _d_ a _r_ k l _i_ q _u_ i _d_ pooling in the cracks...

_B_ A ** _N_** G ** _._**

 **_“S_ ** _p **i**_ **n _e_** _l **e** s **s –“**_

 _B_ A _N_ G ** _._**

_“ **W** e **a** k **...** ”_

B _A_ N _G_.

 _“_ S _T_ O _P_!”

_Strong arms wrap around her waist, hauling her up. The beast flares, spreading embers across her skin – hotter than the resulting sharp breath on her neck. “You’re hurting yourself!”_

Hysteric laughter spills out of the creatures maw, flaming teeth bared in a terrifying grin.

_‘That’s the point’_

The grip slackens, harsh breathing filling her ears. Then she’s falling, back slamming into something soft while calloused fingers wrap firm around her swinging fists, pinning them back. “Stop.” She kicks up, bucking wildly. The grip tightens, wide eyes fill her vision. “Hazel!”

The monster tilts its head, intrigued by the different colours those irises flash – a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. After a long moment, they settle on a pretty mix of the two, beautifully familiar.

She stills, breath catching when the moonlight highlights red splattered across a pale, sculpted face. “Newt?”

A sharp breath slices through still air, fingers around her wrists loosening. “Hazel.”

“What -” Her stomach drops, emerald orbs unable to look away from the blood across his cheeks. “What did I do?” Newt just stares back, lips parted wordlessly. “Fuck –Lumos!” Sitting up, her hands reach for his illuminated face to check for injuries – to scrub the blood away...

She freezes, gaping at the bloody messes of broken, bruised skin attached to her arms disbelievingly.

“I -” She swallows, watching bloodied fingers curl. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Most likely damaged nerves.” His voice is too soft, too neutral –

**_“Who would want to be friends with you?”_ **

****

Green eyes tear away from bloodied hands, looking for a distraction. They find a bombsite, complete with scorched pieces of floorboards covered in blood and sick.

She squeezes her eyes shut, taking deep breaths that taste too much like blood...

****

**_Hair curlers. Dark, spiteful eyes -_ **

**_“I knew you’d be just as strange – just as abnormal...”_ **

****

Mindlessly, fingers search for a stolen wand in a mess of feathers – _‘I’ve got to leave...’_

A touch, barely there, is suddenly around her wrist. Eyes flying open, she goes to pull away only for it to solidify, a careful pressure sending strange shocks of warmth down her arm.

She stills, barely daring to breathe.

It’s... _nice._

“Hazel?” It’s barely a whisper, softer than the feathers littering the bed.

“Yes?” Her own voice is hoarse, fading as warm fingers rub circles into a vein.

A puff of warm air brushes her forehead, “Can you come with me to the kitchen?” Digits press down a little firmer, still ever so tender when she doesn’t answer after a moment. “Please Hazel.”

Emerald eyes finally drag themselves from the torn comforter to meet soft sea-sky irises disbelieving. “Why?”

Sea, sky eyes widen slightly, shifting down to the mess of feathers before snapping back up to meet hers head on. “Your injuries need immediate treatment.” Newt’s jaw tightens, calloused fingers lightly tapping her wrist without any sort of rhythm. “And I want to help you.” Her lips part, an answer already on her tongue, _because how can he help her, when she can’t even help herself?_ “Please let me help you.”

The words catch, slipping away as hitched breath. “I -” Damn it, why are his eyes so soft? So hopeful? “I can’t drink anymore potions. They -” she swallows, gaze flickering to her bloodied hands. “They make them worse.”

She waits for an argument – for false consolations...

**_“...speaking as someone who has Hazel’s best interests at heart...”_ **

**_“She’s not a child!_ **

**_“She’s not an adult either!”_ **

****

Warm fingers tap on her wrist once more, as if playing piano. “All right,” wide-green eyes snap up, staring incredulously at the determined light in Newt’s. He smiles softly, squeezing her wrist reassuringly. “We’ll figure out another way.”

In her chest, the beast purrs.

I~I~I~I~I

She likes wandering bare-foot among his creatures. After being cooped up in a stone prison for so long, the feel of grass between her toes is liberating...

**_Silver hair, dreamy blue eyes filled with understanding..._ **

Newt doesn’t question her on this habit, sometimes even joining her with his trousers rolled up despite them already being a bit too short for him. On those days, he teaches her how to handle the animals, telling the stories of where and how he found them. They never cease to amaze her, these stories...

Emerald eyes soften, drinking in the image of Newt gently running his hands down Herms, a grey hippogriff’s, flank, _‘He_ _never ceases to amaze.’_

I~I~I~I~I

Newt’s eyes shift a lot in the warm kitchen light at 2a.m. 

They’re usually darker colours. Evergreens, and sapphires... but sometimes when he tilts his just so when he’s deep in explaining something, they become brighter. As if everything that makes Newt _Newt_ couldn’t be contained completely anymore. It needs more room to shine.

“Hazel?

She blinks, glancing down at the table where Newt’s fingers lightly brush against her own. Moving her hand away just slightly, she meets his worried gaze with a smile. “Sorry Newt, I was—thinking. What were you asking?”

“I need your last name.” His fingers move to tap against his ceramic mug, white teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. “For your passport, and international wand permit.”

“Oh.” She looks down at her tea, wishing she’d taken the firewhiskey he’d offered after pulling her from her nightmare. There’s plenty of names swirling around in her head with countless emotions attached to each one. All of them just out of reach of fully understanding.

**_Creevy, Black, Granger, Snape, Crabbe, Mcgonagall_ **

None of them ever sound right, no matter how many times she whispers them in the darkness when she wakes herself before Newt can.

She hates it.

**_Malfoy, Weasley, Greengrass, Dursley, Bones, Brown,_ **

****

“Or any last name.” Newt’s voice is slightly louder than usual, eyes a darker blue. He shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders, “Just something for the documents...”

**_Evans, Lupin, Tonks, Thomas..._ **

She’s _glad_ for it.

After all, **_w_** h ** _a_** t _**d**_ o ** _n_** a ** _m_** e ** _s_** m ** _e_** a ** _n,_** r ** _e_** a ** _l_** l ** _y,_** other than a cage?

****

**_T_ ** _o **m**. **.**._

**_Eyes following her every move, hateful one moment – adoring the next._ **

_‘ **W** h **a** t **d** o **y** o **u** a **l** l **w** a **n** t **f** r **o** m **m** e?’_

_Black room. Whispers from a weightless veil..._

_“Master.”_

_“Master”_

_S **h** e **s** h **o** u **l** d **n** ’t **e** x **i** s **t**. S **h** e’ **s** s **o** m **e** t **h** i **n** g n **e** w_

**_Burning letters...a mystery solved to reveal another._ **

****

“Hazel?”

She blinks, glancing down at his fingers resting on her own. “Riddle.” It’s odd how it doesn’t sound strange at all.

The table creaks, his thumb brushes against her knuckles. “Sorry?”

“Hazel Riddle.” A little weirder, but also... _not._ Leaning back, she lifts the mug to her lips with her free hand. “You can put that on the documents.”

His irises brighten, a soft mix of blue and green where she can almost _see_ the questions piling in his head. His fingers tap restlessly on hers - “All right.” He chuckles lightly, tongue swiping over his lips while his unruly curls fall into his eyes. “Hazel Riddle it is.”

Her chest burns even though the tea’s cooled.

I~I~I~I~I

“Thank Merlin that’s done with.” Newt mutters, loud enough that the young woman just making her way out the door could probably hear. Which she does, if how the door slams shut behind her is any indication.

Sighing, Hazel slaps Newt over the head with ‘Angela Gold’s’ resume file before tossing it away. “Y’know, you could at least _pretend_ to consider them...”

“She thought Unicorns came from _rainbows!...”_

“...While they’re still in the room.” She raises an eyebrow at the pink hue appearing in the Mazoologist cheeks. “Besides, no one actually knows where Unicorns come from.”

“No, but she could have at least come up with something more imaginative if she was going to act like she knew the answer to the question.” Newt huffs, raking his fingers through his hair so it stuck up more than usual.

Biting back a smile, she leans her head on her right fist, “I’d agree, but you seem determined to find something wrong with everyone who’s applied.”

Newt leans back in his seat until he’s facing the ceiling, messy curls shrouding his face. “I don’t _need_ another assistant.”

“You need someone to look after Bucky, Herms, and Olly while we’re away.” She counters, “You said yourself that your brother’s going to be too busy, and that you don’t trust him to not ‘get maimed or eaten due to reckless stupidity’.”

He sighs, looking over at her with wide imploring eyes: “We can fit them all in the case...”

“- until you pick up a few dragons along the way.” She grins at his glare, leaning back. “‘Sides’ you _know_ it’s better not to move them, they’ve only just started getting better.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to leave them with a stranger.” Newt huffs, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the chair to face her in a fluid movement.

“You don’t have much choice, since you left this to the last minute.” She bites her lip, fingers tapping against the table. “Unless – you want me to stay?”

“No!” Newt coughs, glancing away from her wide eyes. “No, I want you to come. I -” He shakes his head slightly, rubbing his hands together, “- just don’t want another assistant.”

She snorts. “Aren’t you supposed to be more reasonable. Y’know, wisdom comes with age and all that?”

Newt chuckles, looking up to meet her eyes. “I _am_ more reasonable.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she smirks.

Newt bites his lower lip, glancing down in a horrible attempt to hide the smile curling his mouth. “I’m not sure why you are talking like you’re the epitome of maturity when you are not that much younger than I am and have done far worse...”

“I’m nineteen.”

Her mouth snaps shut while Newt straightens, eyes bright. “Nineteen?”

“I – er...” She swallows, nodding jerkily even as her mind spins. “Yeah.”

Newt’s eyebrows furrow, head tilting while she shifts nervously under his intense gaze. “When was your birthday?”

Her mind grinds to a halt, “What?”

“Your birthday, did it happen recently?” He leans forward, eyebrows furrowing, “Or is your twentieth coming up soon?”

“Um – No,” She glances down, nails digging into the chair’s sides. “It was -”

**_Blistering heat, dirty tired hands – but it was worth it to see the flowers she’d picked out on display..._ **

**_“Born as the seventh month dies...”_ **

“July,” she breathes, lips curling. “July 31st.”

Looking up, her smile falters at the lack of Newt’s. His brow’s still furrowed, eyes focused intently on _her._

Far too attentive. 

She blinks and that’s all gone, a dazzling grin in place, “Well, I’ll make sure to mark it on my calendar then.”

I~I~I~I~I

Despite Newt’s stubbornness, with a little help from the three recovering Hippogriffs a kind faced woman named Bunty is hired to take care of them while Newt and Hazel are abroad.

Still, she tries not to look too smug when Newt grudgingly admits that the red-head is ‘rather helpful’ and ‘certainly a much better care-taker than Thesues.’ during breakfast.

Newt sighs behind his teacup, sea-sky eyes flickering towards her. “Smugness doesn’t suit you Hazel.”

“Shame,” She smiles as he takes a long sip. “I thought I looked pretty sexy in it.” He hums, drinking deeper. Her grin widens, “Almost as sexy as you are in that shirt.” He coughs violently, barely avoiding getting his shirt full of tea whilst his cheeks flush a rather pretty shade of red. She sighs playfully, “Careful, you don’t want to ruin it before Bunty gets here do you?”

“Why would that matter?” He demands through his coughs, managing to fix her with an almost intimating stare.

Taking a long drink from her cup, she shrugs. “I just think she’ll like it too, that’s all.”

Bunty does like the shirt.

Hazel knows this before the red-head even says anything for many reasons. One is that her happy ramblings on Bucky’s speedy recovery _halts_ when Newt comes down the basement steps. Two is the way her eyes flicker over his form, no doubt admiring how the turquoise brings out his eyes. Three is the hugely obvious fact that the woman has been smitten with Newt since she first laid eyes on him during her interview.

A fact, that is proven to still somehow remain completely out of Newt’s notice when he smiles, sickeningly sincerely _oblivious_ as the red-faced kind woman stammers out, “That shirt’s really nice on you Mr. Scamander.”

Before Newt can have a chance to say something to make this situation more awkward for her to witness than it already is, Hazel walks over to tweak his collar. “See Newt? Told you I had excellent taste.” She turns back to now wide-eyed Bunty, left hand rubbing a crease on Newt’s chest, while the other lingers at his collar – clenched fingers brushing tanned skin.

“Smugness doesn’t suit you Hazel,” He replies, exasperatedly fond.

She turns back, grinning widely, “Yes it does.”

Rolling his eyes, Newt doesn’t quite manage to stop the upwards curl of his lips.

Crises averted.

I~I~I~I~I

**_There’s too much._ **

**_Too much light. Too much noise, everywhere – anywhere_ **

**_She’s falling too fast, pieces of her breaking off... scattering into the void of everything._ **

**_It hurts._ **

**_It h_ ** _u **r** t **s.**_

_B **u** t **s** h **e** c **h** o **s** e **this.**_

I~I~I~I~I

“Tea?” Newt already has a cup ready in hand, eyes soft.

“Yes please.” She grabs the mug, bringing it to her lips. The tea has cooled so it doesn’t burn her tongue; tasting almost purely of honey. Just as she likes it.

Newt pours himself a cup, adding two small teaspoons of sugar along with plenty of milk. He leans against the counter, fingers tapping at the cup’s brim. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” She takes another long sip, eyes focused on his hands. Swallowing, she meets his watchful gaze with a smile. “It’ll be nice to go somewhere with more sunshine.”

He slouches against the counter, lips curling into a grin. “Unfortunately we probably won’t see that for a while. The Black Forest isn’t exactly named for its cheerfully sunny atmosphere.”

“Meh,” Hazel shrugs, taking another drink. “You’re so sickeningly cheerful I’m sure your mere presence will require the German Ministry to come up with a more inviting name.”

“Excuse me,” Newt huffs, a warm smile curling his mouth. “I fail to see how having little faith in humanity makes one ‘sickeningly cheerful’ -”

“Within the first couple minutes we get there, you’ll stop to coo and pet at a baby deer.” Hazel raises an eyebrow, placing the mug down on the table so she can cross her arms. “At some point, all the other little animals, mundane or magical will come out too - and by the time we leave you’ll have a whole hoard following you like you’re Snow White while you ask me if we could please stay a while longer.”

Newt’s mouth opens, then closes, his eyebrows furrowing. “I fail to see what a muggle fairy-tale has got to do with anything – but that does not make me cheerful. It simply means I have an excellent taste in company...”

“You’ll probably sing to them too.” Hazel continues, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “How’d Nick’s lullaby go again?”

Newt sputters, nearly dropping his mug. “He was restless, and it was one time!”

 _“Hush little Niffler don’t steal coins, momma can get you real gold mines...”_ She tries keeping a straight face. She fails. “You know, it’s terrible to lie to your children Newt. Especially in songs that don’t even rhyme -”

Newt ducks his head down, twisting to place his mug on the counter while his foot taps restlessly against the floor. Spinning back around, he braces his hands on the counter behind him – meeting her eyes with a cool expression. “First off, it flows just fine. Secondly, Nick is clearly _your_ child.”

“Oh really?” She laughs, cocking her left hip.

“Yes – he would be less of a menace to society if he was mine.” Newt’s face is calm, all but for his twitching mouth.

He’s learning.

“Oh -” She steps closer, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “Now, that’s _definitely_ a lie Mr. Scamander.”

He chuckles, sea-sky eyes bright; warm. “That you’re a menace?”

“That you’re less of one than I am.”

There’s this feeling in her gut. A warm tension that’s been building throughout their little exchange that gets just a little warmer from how Newt smiles at her in that second. Like when her magic pulses beneath her skin – too hot, too much at times but also not _enough._

Only, somehow, _better._

“Well -” Newt glances down at his feet whilst stepping closer to her, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looks up, grinning freely, “It’s difficult to argue against _that.”_

She bites her lip, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I know.”

I~I~I~I~I

The apparation point is loud.

Hundreds of voices ring across plaster walls, a confusing chorus of meaningless words.

She breathes deep, looking down at the dark wooden panels beneath her feet. _‘At least there’s no stone.’_

The ground suddenly is much closer, her shoulder aching- then she’s looking into Newt’s wide eyes. His hand is wrapped securely around her elbow. “You all right?” His eyes flicker over her features, a frown tugging at his mouth.

She smiles; it feels stiff. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“All right,” he’s still frowning; the hand on her elbow loosening so it can slide down her arm to wrap around her hand instead.

She glances down at how his hand fully encases hers, debating on pulling away. After all, she’s fine now. She’s fully capable of walking to their checkpoint without having to be led there.

She shifts her hand, fingers wrapping more comfortably around his.

Her hands had been cold anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> So there it is! Finally, after all this time. Hope you guys like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And will enjoy the chapters to come.
> 
> I will post a timeline in the next chapter to help out ad well


End file.
